Glad You're Here
by Compass
Summary: Hector saved Paris from Meneleus in the duel. When Paris's attempt to redeem himself ends in his capture, it may kill more then one prince. Paris has one night, some unlikly allies, and all the courage he can find to save Troy, Hector, and himself. COMPLE
1. The Death That Waits

**Author's Note: This is Paris's POV. In case you can't figure out the context, he has just lost the duel, and the sword of Troy, to King Meneleus. Hector has killed Meneleus, and Paris is safe, if swordless. But Paris's attempt to redeem himself goes horribly wrong, and when Paris is captured by King Agmemmnon, it puts more then one prince in danger.**

**Other Author's Note: Paris is a coward in this story. Shut up and stop flaming me. He will get better as the story progresses. If you want a fearless fighter Paris, read another story. I tell things as they are.**

I should have died next to the sword of Troy, not running back to get it.

Hector killed my enemy for me. Hector's done everything for me.

But I still can't bear to think of dying. Even when guilt washes over me, I still can't bear the sight of my body in the sand.

_No, don't think, just run. Pick up the sword. That's it. Go._

"Not so fast, my boy."

I scream. Someone's grabbed my shoulder and I can hear their breathy laugh in my ear.

I'm spun around, and my first panicked thought is that Meneleus is going to kill me, like he never got the chance to.

Then I realize it's his brother, Agamemnon, laughing in my face.

"What do you want?" I gasp. Stupid thing to say.

"Oh, he's a brave one, now that his brother's gone and killed for him. Courageous now, aren't you?"

"No."

The king bears down on me, like a lion to a lamb. He's pulling my head back, bearing my neck.

"Ah, you'll need courage soon then. A cut throat is a painful way to die. Slow, watching your own blood pool on the ground, while your brother is helpless to save your pretty face. It's the only death where you can't scream as you watch your life ebb away."

I can't scream now, as I watch the knife blade come down to my neck. I feel like there's glass in my throat, making me gasp at my complete helplessness.

"Hector, Hector, look at your brother!" Someone's shouting, "We're going to cut his throat, and he's going to die right in front of you! How do you feel about that, brave prince?"

But both armies are charging, and if Hector hears, he can't save me.

I'm struggling like a fish out of water as the knife comes to my throat. Agamemnon's fat hands are too strong for my desperation.

But suddenly the knife stops.

"Odysseus?" the king shouts, angry and surprised.

"My lord." The man has the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Wouldn't it be better if we brought the prince to the tents, as a captive? Killing the boy would only make Troy angrier, more willing to take the offensive, while taking the boy would lower the city's morale and draw Hector right into our camp."

"You think so?"

"I saw the look in his eyes when the prince was about to die. Believe me, Hector would kill himself for this boy."

"I should spare him after the cowardly swine ran away from a fight and got my brother killed?"

"Yes, you can afford to spare him after the cowardly swine ran away from a fight, and got your brother killed. Trust me."

Odysseus's cool logic seems to win over the king, and I begin to breathe again.

"Not so fast, prince!" Agamemnon hits me in the jaw, the same place his brother struck. I choke and start to bleed.

Odysseus looks on calmly."To the tents?" He suggests.

No, not to the tents. Anywhere but the tents. Somewhere with Helen, inside the walls of Troy, safe, far away.

_Yes, and with Hector fighting my battles. I asked for this._

Agamemnon may spare my life, but he's not going to make it easy for me. He yanks me by the hair into a gigantic tent.

Even choking on fear, I'm surprised at the lavishness of it all. There's more gold in this tent then there are in most of my father's rooms.

"Like it, boy? Once I have Troy, there'll be more."

What does he want with Troy when he has this wealth at his disposal? What does he want with Hector, with me?  
I'm dropped like a rag, too frightened to resist, as a pair of men with muscles bigger then Hector's duck into the tent. They force my knees under me and tie me up quickly, pulling the knots as tight as their rage lets them. I see it in their eyes, I am a coward, a weakling, a boy who ran away and let others do his dirty work. I see their eyes reflected in my own.

The rope cuts my wrist, and I wince. Agamemnon snorts out a laugh when he sees me struggling.

"Still trying to run away, eh? Your brother will make a better prisoner then you, I'll say."

A head pokes into the tent. It's another muscled man, with iron gray hair.

"My Lord, the Trojans are retreating. Odysseus has ordered the Greeks to fall back as well, as we're still in range of the archers-who's that?"

"The Trojan swine, who ran back to get his sword. Odysseus says we can use him to catch the other prince."

The messenger grunts, not sure how to reply, when another man walks into the tent.

"King of kings?" He asks, pointing a questioning finger at me.

"I've explained the swine once already. You'll just have to wait until everyone else gets here."

"We'll have to wait a long time then, because Achilles has gone back to his tent."

"That bastard! I'll tear him away from his Trojan whore if it takes the entire Greek army. I am the king!"

"Yes, yes."

"Heard of Achilles, Prince?" Agamemnon turns to me.

"My-my brother told me about him."

"Your brother's already afraid of him, hey? Well, soon you can be too."

Agamemnon's wrong. From what I've heard, I'm already afraid of him.

There is a restless murmer of voices outside the tent. The king stalks out. The murmur turns into a screaming match, with Agamemnon and Odysseus out shouting each other.

"I want that insolent idiot to respect me!"

"This isn't about Achilles! This is about using that coddled prince to get Hector!"

I'm going to kill my brother because of my stupid mistakes. I should have died on the battlefield, I should die now. Will these monsters ever be satisfied? Isn't one Prince of Troy sufficent? I am the guilty one, the one who started this filthy war. Not Hector. Me, my filthy impulsive sin, me! Is this not enough?

But even when I wish for death, I'll run away when it comes.


	2. Who Will Remember Me?

**Authors Note: I hope you liked it. This chapter is kinda short, because I had to work with Achilles. Generally I don't like Achilles (because he killed Hector! What was the deal with that?) but he has a certain nuance that I can't resist playing with. Enjoy. **

The voices outside the tent stop.

"Achilles? So nice that you've decided to join us."

"You've captured Prince Paris? I hardly see that a task worth bragging about."

The voice of Achilles is deceptively lazy, and I startle when he pushes through the tent door. He laughs.

I recognize Hector's description of him, blond, long-haired, and oppressivly beautiful. His presence fills the tent, and I shrink in the corner.

He catches my desperate eyes with his flinty blue ones.

"Scared, prince?"

I nod.

"For your brother, or for yourself?"

"Both." It won't do any good to lie now.

As his face catches the light, I wonder at how young he is; maybe two or three years older then me. But something about his arrogant bearing, the anger lines etched in his mouth and the eyes make him look older then Hector, even.

"You think I'm young?"

I flinch again, cutting my wrist.

He nods. "So do a lot of people. But I show them in the end."

Silence. Achilles speaks again.

"Are you related to a Brisies?"

"My cousin!"

"I thought she was royalty." He's smug now.

"Is she alive?"

Achilles smiles. "All in good time, Prince."

"If you've done anything to her, I will-"

"You will what? You'll rip apart the ropes and attack me with your bleeding hands?" He laughs. "Prince, you're a coward. I saw you fight today."

He goes on without waiting for a reply. "I can never understand cowards. Why did you run away? You could have been the prince who saved Troy, and your name would have lived for centuries. Why did you give up on your country to crawl back to your brother?"

"I wanted to live."

"Everyone has to die sometime."

"But why now? Why not live until you're old and happy, with a woman you love, and die peacefully in your sleep?" I can't help letting my words out, and as soon as I speak, I want them back.

Achilles looks calm. "That's the life I would have had if I hadn't gone with the Greeks."

"Why in Apollo's name did you come, then?"

"Immortality. In a thousand years, people will still say I was the greatest warrior who ever died. What will they say of you?"

"That I was a coward. But I lived." I pause. "Did you-did you choose to die here?"

"Yes."

"But how can you fight when you know you're going to be killed so soon?"

"I know that when I die, I won't die unknown."

Another pause, while Achilles shifts his weight.

"I know I have time left. My mother is a goddess. There's only one place I can be killed."

He points at his left heel. "Immortality. It's yours. Take it."


	3. Don't Fall Away

**Author's Note: Since my story was booted off the first page, I decided to post the pitiful few paragraphs that I wrote in the last week or so. I have been suffering from writer's block and a friend's move, meaning this chapter is going to be short and angsty. I AM WRITING THE NEXT CHAPTER NOW AND I PROMISE IT WILL BE BETTER. I will post it very soon! Until then, tootles!**

Achilles left me after that. So far, no one has come into the tent. No guards even. They think I'm too scared to try an escape.

They're right.

Even if I did manage to get free, how long will I last in the Greek camp? Two minutes? Three? Before I'm sliced to bloody ribbons, cast in the Trojan sands as a carrion warning?

"_Look at the crows, boy. They've never tasted prince before!"_

_Stop!_ I've got to pull myself out of this living nightmare. I've got to stop thinking about Helen. I've really got to stop thinking about Hector. I've got to breathe. Breathe.

_Don't close your eyes_...

I can't afford to have my imagination be my enemy now.

_Gods, oh Gods, what am I going to do?_

I bite my lip. Hector knows that he is going to die for me. And he's still coming.

He's going to lose everything, for me.

Why him? Why would a man lose all his blessings at a chance to rescue his curse? How can he come, knowing he's going to die, unmourned, like me?

He would have said "Because you'd do it for me". But I wouldn't. If I was like that, I'd have escaped. I'd have fought. I'd be home by now.

_Where are you now, Hector?_

I wanted to say good-bye to Helen. And father. Will he still love me, now that I've destroyed his city?

At least I'll get to say good-bye to Hector.

_Stop. Don't you dare start crying, you freak. Don't think about that. Concentrate on the tent. Breathe. Sheepskin tent. Ugly door. Keep breathing. Bite your lip and don't think of anything but the pain. Look at something else. Breathe._

I'm a gods-cursed coward who's lucky enough to have a brother that loves him too much.

_Apollo, hear my prayer, not for me, but for those I love..._

I can't do this!

Gods damn Hector! Gods damn him and his brotherly love, and his honor, and his pathetic attempt to save my life!

I don't want to die.

I really don't want to die.

And when I damn heaven above, I'm only damning myself.

The Greeks know that Hector's going to die for me too. But they're laughing. The Greeks love a tragedy, especially when it pulls another city into their empire.

Apollo damn them! What do they want with more treasures, with more glory, with more greed, with more power, with more blood, with more gold?

They want everything.

They want to take the world, and I'm the bit of prince that's going to let them do it.

And I know that Hector's going to die for me. But I'm Paris. Scared of death, of escape, of myself.

Some things are the will of the gods

_ This isn't._

**Now, I would like to take a moment to thank all my reviewers. You are lovely.**

**Shelli: **I have a crush on Hector too-no need to be coy (heh heh). In both the Iliad and Troy, Agamemnon is absolutely odious, with an inferiority complex the size of Texas. I intend to portray him that way. This may be an AU fic, but I'm not sure it's AU enough to have the Greeks lose. I'd love that too, believe me. And Hector would live!!!! However, with Achilles talking to Paris (and they will meet again!) things might change. And thank you for noticing the age thing. Actually, he was 15 years old when he joined the army, but this is a few years into the war. You were also the only one who semi-responded to my burning question "What's up with Achilles?". Seeing that there are all these Achilles/Brisies fics, I hoped someone would know. Apparently not.

**AzNnEgGrOePnOi **(However you spell it) You are being particularly maddening in your reviews. I don't think this chapter will help you in finally commenting on my work, as it is much too short. CURSE YE, WRITERS BLOCK! However I am writing the next chapter now, and it will be a lot longer, with a lot more happening in it. So thanks for your compliments, however elusive they may be, and keep reading! Also, thank you for reviewing Nothing Left To Win. That was inspired by a nightmare, and I'm glad it has gotten some tolerable reviews.

**The Dunadan:** Thank you! I'm so glad you said that. I'm trying to work on my characters, so I was quite happy when I got your review. I think Paris's conduct in the duel with Meneleus would make him realize some things about himself. He was pretty self-aware in the second half of the movie, and I bet the duel was the turning point. He'll continue to grow, and test his own limitations, as the story goes on.

**Avaenian:** Ha! I'm glad someone else noticed the deliciousness of an Achilles/Paris dialogue. I've always wanted them to have an interaction because they are really similar—both are talented, passionate, beautiful, controversial, and quite careless of other people. But they have completely different takes on the Trojan war and war in general. Not to mention life in general. I've always wanted them to meet, and they never have. So I engineered a bit of my own...

**Lady Discord: **Your story is pretty superb too. I'll post the next 'real' chapter soon; don't worry and please keep reviewing! Thank you!

**Luthien:** Thank you! I am sorry to say the next chapter has no Odysseus. He is asleep, as people with brains tend to be at midnight (wonder how many dumb people are in my stories then). Please keep reading anyway; you never know...

**Sara: **Things like your review stop me from being self-deprecating for a while, which is a real improvement. "Beautifully written"-thanks!

**Praetorian Guard, FelsGoddess, and ElvenRanger13: **Thank you!!!


	4. For Tomorrow

**Authors Note: I'm reposting this chapter, mainly in an attempt to annoy people. Also, because I wanted to edit the chapter a bit, get more reviews, and I forgot to add an author's note. On the bright side, I got my first flame today. It was more then a page long, proving that some people have even less of a life then I do. **

**Other Author's Note: Yes, it's a bit sappy. Live, or let live. **

_Don't think about guards. Don't think about people randomly coming into the tent. Think about Hector. _

I focus on Hector's face as I try to scrape the ropes off my hands. No luck. Hector could do this. Hector would just break the ropes. All I can do is grate my wrists on them, opening up scabs that healed hours ago.

_Hector. Hector!_

I throw myself forward, trying to wrench off the ropes for once and for all. It doesn't work, and pain shoots through my fingers.

"That's not how you do it."

"What? Who's there?" The only person with that voice is dead.

"It's Brisies."

"Brisies! Gods, how did you get here? They said you were killed!"

"No, no! Hush, Paris, we must be quiet. Don't move your wrists, or you'll make them bleed more."

"How did you find me? How did you survive when the temple was destroyed?"

Brisies eases the ropes off my hands, and I grab her in a bloody hug.

_Death, death is so final; Brisies, cousin, I'm so glad you're alive. _

"This is a touching reunion."

Achilles is in the tent.

_godsdamnit_

"Achilles, you followed me?" Brisies moves in front of me.

"I'm a soldier, darling."

Achilles seems even bigger in the dark, his hulking figure overflowing the narrow space.

"Please, Achilles. He's my cousin. I can't let him die."

"Brisies, no." I push past her. She's not Hector; she can't protect me.

Apollo, I'm scared

Achilles grabs my ruined wrists.

"You were trying to escape before she came. You're not as much of a coward as I thought."

"My brother is coming for me. I can't let him die for my stupidity."

Achilles drops my hands. "No, I suppose you can't."

He draws his sword.

"No!" Brisies cries. I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender, drawing Brisies behind me.

Achilles laughs. "I think this belongs to you."

He does a quick twist with his hands, and a second later is offering me the sword, hilt-first. I blink, not understanding

"You were stupid enough to try and pick it up on the battlefield."

It's the sword of Troy.

He offers me the sword again, and I take hold of the hilt.

"Thank you."

"Don't. And remember, tomorrow morning, I had nothing to do with this."

Achilles leaves the tent as silently as he came.

The sword is cold and heavy. I wonder if I can defend myself with it. My arms feel numb after being tied for so long, and my hands are torn and throbbing.

I bundle a cloak in my arms. "Brisies, do people wear these?"

"Yes!" She sounds excited, "All the time! That's perfect!"

"Yes." It's a trick I used to visit Helen in Sparta.

Brisies puts her head out of the tent and looks around.

"The coast is clear. Go!"

She pushes me out of the tent, just as the idea of fleeing the Greek camp becomes more terrifying then death inside the tents.

"Brisies, I can't do this!"

"Yes you can! You've already gotton free, that's half the battle. And you have a sword!"

"I can't use a sword to save my life!"

"If you stay here, your life is as good as gone anyway!"

"Come with me." I whisper finally, clenching her fingers.

"No." She pulls her hot hand from my white-knuckled one. "I can't."

"What? You must come with me!"

"I can't." She repeats. She glances toward Achilles' tent, and her eyes rest there.

She turns back to me, and I know why she can't leave.

"You love him." I sound accusing. I don't care.

"I do." Brisies's voice trembles dangerously, like she's admitting this to herself for the first time. Maybe she is.

I lift her eyes to mine.

"I won't condemn you for it. I started this gods-cursed war. And even if I had the chance to..."

I trail off, letting my eyes drop.

"You wouldn't give her back?" Brisies squeezes my hand.

"No. I wouldn't. I love her too much."

Now I'm awash with memories of Helen. I've tried not to think about her, even as Hector's death has tormented me. I never want her to be alone.

That's why I couldn't die today.

Because there will be tomorrow. And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

_I won't be much longer, Helen. Don't worry about me. I'm coming. _

"Good-bye, Brisies."

"Good-bye, cousin."

Before I can stop myself, I hug her again, a hasty, impetuous, desperate hug.


	5. Find Your Way Home

**To all my reviewers, especially the nice ones; sorry for the delay! This is the last chapter. Read all the way through-I like the end. **

And I'm running.

I'd run faster if every tree didn't seem to conceal a guard, a shadow to jump out at me, to peel back my cloak, to-

"Soldier!"

I inhale so sharply it might be a scream. One of the shadows has come loose, and is approaching me with clipped strides.

"What are you doing out at this time of night?"

I grope for the first answer I can find. I'm a terrible liar. But if I can somehow get to Hector, I'll conjure enough falsehoods to put Odysseus to shame.

"Achilles..." I say, hoping his name won't get me in trouble.

The guard barks out a laugh. "Achilles again? He's having the time of his life tonight. I thought he was satisfied with that Trojan whore, but no..."

"You mean Brisies?"

"Is that what her name is? The little Trojan slut?"

I grit my teeth to prevent myself from doing something stupid.

The guard seems to lose interest in me after this. "Go on."

I sprint, stumbling into the trees that look so different tonight.

I have to lose myself for no one else to find me.

And finally I stop, out of breath, out of panic.

I inhale finally, realizing how narrow my escape was. If the guard had chanced to look under my cloak, I would have been a dead prince by now. Throat slit, blood pooling on the ground...

I shut my eyes, trying to block out the images.

"Soldier!"

I jump backwards as another man appears not two feet in front of me. His voice is cut with hostility, and something that sounds like

fear.

I freeze as his blade wavers toward my neck. But my tense, cramped hands have twisted around the sword of Troy, and I swing it upwards. It repels the stranger's sword with a crash of metel that echoes in the trees.

Now the soldier halts, listening to the metel echo. The moon catches my sword, and I realize too late how conspicious my blade is.

"Troy?" The stranger whispers, laughing. And with a flip of his sword, he brushes back my cloak.

"No!" I raise my sword again. If I can get out of here, I can find Hector, I can run...

"Paris!"

The man pulls back his own cloak, dropping his sword in the grass.

"Hector!"

My brother.

He's here.

"Paris, gods, I was-"

And then he cuts himself off because I'm hugging him too tightly. He's hugging me too, and I think he's crying. And I know I'm crying, because he's safe and I'm safe and I will never, ever have to look at him dying again...

We run over the yellow sand, to the gates of Troy. The doors open, and torches glow over the roads.

If I remember Hector's face it will be on this night. He is smiling because he forgot that he could, and his face is bright and clear in the glow of the road. For once there is nothing torn and conflicted in his eyes, no ghosts of guilt and fear hinting at hurt that I could never imagine.

"You were brave." Hector says, as we walk down the street.

No. I was desperate. I'm no warrior. I'm still shivering as we enter the castle.

"Not really. I knew you'd be there."

"Still..."

"Have a sense of fun." I poke him. "I'm alive, and it's amazing. You knew I'd find you."

"Right."

"Seriously. I always will."

It's wonderful to hear what was a never truth until now, when it will be forever so.

**AzNnEgGrOePnOi (whose penname I still can't spell): Thank you! Even though your ch. 4 review was kind of mean, in a funny way. I can't say I like Achilles either; he killed Hector, and is quite possibly the biggest BRAT in literature—but at the same time, he fascinates me. So he comes through pretty nuance in my stories. Thank you for being a faithful reviewer!**

**Andromache: Hector is my favorite character too, even though he doesn't show up much in this story. Glad you like how I'm developing Paris though—he's fun to play with, because if you change him, you change a lot of the war (And Hector survives! Whoop-di-doo!). **

**BoBi: Paris is not being tortured. I'm not quite sadistic enough to do that—at least not in this story. Glad you like the angst though ;). It was fun to write.**

**Murphysbaby: Thank you! Yeah, I haven't found many other Paris fics myself. Obviously I have not updated soon, but I hope you liked this bit anyway.**

**Shelli: You know, the Hector lover's have to start a Hector fanclub, to stop the Troy board from being taken over by Achilles nutters. The bits in Paris's head were very fun, but Paris doesn't have too many issues I can see. If I were in his place, I'd be scared shitless. Anyhoo, I also agree about Clytemnestra; if I had Agamemnon as a husband, I'd do away with him. Odious meglomaniac. **

**Fanfiction Guru: But of course I fume when I get your reviews. Let me be frighteningly candid with you; most writers, myself included, tend to think to themselves "Hmmm. How many characters can be faced with improbable amounts of angst-producing overkill in the first few minutes of this story?" Or, "How long and boring and ridiculously overreacted can I make this all be?" Once this is done, they may murmur approvingly to themselves and poise another question for thier own enjoyment. It may go something like this: "Nice plot device, eh? God I am brilliant".**

**On another note, please do not post racist or homophobic comments on _my_ review board. "Better tell her what I said or you all will be sorry." If you truly live Brazil, I cannot see how you would make me sorry in any way, shape or form, unless you came to the US and threatened me with a weapon. **

**Kisses from NYC!**

**Serenity56424: Thank you! Reviewers like you are lovely.**

**Tireseis: I think Paris figures out courage in this chapter, if not completely conciously. Thanks for the encouragement; I'm basing this mainly on the movie, so there are contractions. Sorry I didn't update for a while; keep reviewing! By the way, I like your penname.**

**Juuhachi-gou, Goddess of Death: I'm not worrying about my grammer, and I don't plan to. Awesome! Another person who likes Paris. I tried to portray him in a nice way—so many people are tough on him, but in his place, I might've done just the same. To tell the truth, in the movie, he's the character I identify with most.**

**Keeping it up.**

**Mirwen Sunrider/Elrondiel: Horray! Someone who admits that they'd be scared out of their mind if they faced Meneleus too. I certainly would. Good minds think alike; glad to hear someone else had the idea. **


End file.
